8:04 A.M.

Warm water fell on my face with a rhythm.

A melody, a song: I hear it in the air of this place. My hair is wet. Water rolls down my back and falls down on marble tìles beneath me, drop after drop. 

Showering after thirty hours of traveling should feel like heaven but it doesn't. Instead, it feels heavy. Suffocating, even. Like I'm drowning in this water that's not enough to cleanse me. 

I turned the faucet handle and the water stopped falling, taking the melody with it. Stepping out, my hand grabbed a white towel and tied it to my waist. Unbearing fog filled up the whole bathroom and left like a ghost when I opened the door to the bedroom I was given. I wouldn't exactly call it mine because it isn't. 

Sitting down on the mattress, I looked for my garments in my bag. Maa had stuffed a bunch of warm woolen clothes for me incase it gets cold. Neither less to say, I might need to go to the nearest clothes shop to get something that won't boil me. With my body covered with a black t shirt and navy blue shorts, I get up and walk to the mirror. 

I look like me, fortunately. 

I fixed up a few things that she would too. My damp hair, my wrinkled shirt and the little cuts on my face that I made while shaving my beard. A bandage would help with that. Do I look presentable? Yes. But does that even matter? No. Because who would care when there is a literal dead body in this house, waiting to be burned? All attention goes to it, and to nothing else. 

A knock beated at my door. "Sarthak Babu! Breakfast will be served in half an hour. Madam ji asks if you have any allergies." Bhanu Kaka. He's respectful enough to not barge in and see the mess I've made while searching for fabric to cover up my body.

"Mushrooms, Kaka! And thank you for asking." I shouted. I could felt that he nodded and left, even with the door closed. Seemingly, I should feel a bit welcomed now after knowing that she cares for my well being. Considerable enough to ask for my allergies. But the first impression still ticks me off.

Himani Bhatnagar, that's her name. The one who ignored me despite calling me here herself. I've heard that grief makes you rude but it's not good for one's hospitality now, is it? No, Sarthak. That's rude. 

She loved her elder sister, a lot. On days the rain was kind enough to fall for a bit longer just to give her some extra time at my apartment, she would tell me about Himani. Like her job as an agriculture officer here in Shimla or, the way she would sometimes appear on the news because of her incredible work. A role model to look up to, you could say. But if you were a mirror to her,

Then why is it that you are alive and she's rotting, Himani?

Blue and green mounatins stared at me through the window. Do they also ask my purpose? Or are they welcoming me in their own way? A call of nature that I cannot pick up. 

I sighed, picking up the clothes I scattered on the bed. Mind blank, eyes unstable: Something inside me needs rest. After cleaning up, I sat down on the brown couch and unlocked my phone. Hundreds of messages, again. Most are from my colleagues though. I am currently working as an aerospace engineer in Kolkata so, disappearing all of a sudden without a notice is suspicious. Quickly and carelessly, I poorly write a message to my co worker, assuring him that I'm fine and to write a letter for my little vacation. It's not that I don't care if I lose my job. But right now, I don't want to spend my energy somewhere else. 

Getting up from the couch, I tossed my phone on it. I'll look for it later. 

Let my stomach be full of food instead of thoughts, brain. 

I opened the wooden door and closed it behind me. My legs began following the path to the kitchen. It's like a long route that makes your feet hurt. On the way there, my eyes darted across suitcases and bags outside various rooms. Relatives, I suppose. They are here already?

As absurd as this may sound, I could still feel her presence in this old wooden cottage. How? How are you still here, dear? Did someone perform a ritual on you to make your unalive heart beat again? 

I could see the kitchen and two figures. One stood behind the white marble counter, the other sat down on the chair by the table with ease. 

Three people who are grieving identically different. But the third one stands far. He looks away yet stares right into it. For how long?

Silence fell like a water droplet, echoing in my ears as I walked right into the kitchen. Both of them, now aware of my presence, stiffened up a bit.

Himani looked at me with a glare that reminded me of her. But this one was definitely not full of love.

We stared at each other. Himani, to Kaka, then again Himani. Who do I look at? One patted me on the head with his awkward smile, and the other sliced it off with her eyes. 

"Breakfast. Kaka told me it was almost ready." I whispered to her, even though it felt like she didn't listen

 A dhattu covered her dark brown hair around the skull, purposely to hide her thoughts? 

She didn't even say anything. Just signed with her eyes, telling me to sit down. And I did.

"You must be hungry. Eat till your stomach is full." Bhanu Kaka said with a faint smile. His eyes were still a bit red. 

"Of course. I appreciate this meal" I said, secretly looking at Himani. Are her eyes red, too? 

She put down, infront of me, a plate of food. Three rotis, with cooked broccoli and some yogurt. Nothing special, just food. I nodded, telling her thank you in the language of the silent. But she didn't pay heed to my gesture and served Kaka a plate as well. How cruel!

"Call all the relatives here to eat at around 10 am, Kaka. I'm leaving to make preparations." Her voice sounded, dead. Like she's reading the sentences off some textbook. Is that what losing someone does to you?

"Beti, leave after eating something, no?" Being considerable, I see. She shakes her head, stomped her feet and walked out the door, closing it behind her. He sighed.

"Oh, will everyone be here by 10?" I asked him, trying to get some information. 

"Yes." He claimed. "We don't have many relatives to begin with, actually. Madam ji's family is a small one." Breaking off a piece of the roti, he ate it with broccoli and yogurt. 

My head nodded, mimicking him. His movements were fast, unsteady, yet so slow. Eyes that never stay at once place, he looked to be in a panic. Is it because of the many cries we are about to hear today and tomorrow? Does he fear tears? 

None of my business. I continued to eat my meal.

"The room is comfortable. It's warm and decorated well." I mumbled on the phone while walking in the garden. "Glad it is. Oh, and did she talk to you, yet?" Maa asked from the other side of the phone. 

"No. The talks are.. indirect."

"Such a mannerless girl! She should be thankful you showed up." She pouted.

"Maa, don't say that. Her sister died. It's understandable."

"So what?" She shouted. "She just lost her sister. YOU lost your love!"

Love?

"Stop. I'm going to hang up now. Love you, bye." I didn't think twice before hitting that red button in the middle.

Maa had been like this. Always blaming the victim instead of trying to understand how it must've felt to the other party. She didn't care for anyone else if they don't act suitable for her. I love her a lot but, gosh.

My lips let out a weak sigh. Tired eyes fell down on the flowers planted on the ground. I saw many of them. Roses, tulips, marigolds and, hydrangeas.

Suddenly, I stopped, right infront of those hydrangeas. They were a shade of light purple and still blooming, shining a light at me. I crouched down and caressed one's petals with my finger. 

Just as I was about to pluck one for myself, I heard a voice from behind.

"Sarthak?" 

My eyes looked back and widened. Stood there somewhere 6ft away from me, on the green grass, a girl. 5'3ft, blue eyes, jet black hair and caramel skin. A girl that was like one of those hydrangeas in my life.

Radhika; My friend.

I stood up and immediately ran to her, hugging her in my arms. She too, sank into my hug. It had been two years since we saw each other in person. We had been in contact through messages but it was just not the same as chatting while feeling her hand on mine. Now, she was in front of me, finally. It's not the only reason why I was hugging her, though.

"Oh, I'm so glad to see you." She said with a raspy voice. I looked back at her, pulling away. Once my eyes met with her swollen ones, I knew this conversation was going to be heavy.

"She died so unexpectedly." Radhika sobbed a bit, wiping the tears off her face with her fingers.

"Did you visit her before all this happened? You did stay friends with her after that night." I asked, rubbing her back.

"I wish I did. I had to move to a Kerala for my job and I lost her contact. God, I regret leaving her behind." Her voice cracked. Must I say I was taken aback by that information.

Radhika had always been the one to hear all of our problems, providing solutions like she was Google. She didn't just make our lives better with logic, but also love. A love that you crave from people. 

The love of being understood.

Now, seeing her cry like this, I couldn't help but feel agony in my heart. It's like I want to scold her. 'You made her cry. Apologize.' That's what I want to say to her face. But I couldn't. Because she is nothing but a rotting, soulless corpse now.

"There, there." She leaned her head on my shoulder and I patted her head. How I met Radhika? I don't remember. We met really, really long ago. Even before I met Aryan or her. Maybe that's the beauty of it. I don't need to remember how or when I met her to love her.

Once she felt a bit okay, she asked me in a soft voice. "Did you see Aryan? He was supposed to reach today."

"No." I replied. "I am not in contact with him, anymore."

"Oh." She sighed, understanding the sensitivity of the topic.

"Did you see her, yet?"

"I don't think I want to." I sighed. 

The closest ones of the deceased get a chance to go and see the corpse before it is taken out for the funeral. Which means, me, Radhika, Aryan and many more will go and see her for the second last time. 

I think I'll faint when that happens.

She nodded her head, slightly. There was silence between us. Not that kind of awkward silence when you don't know what to say but the one between close friends, lovers or family. Where you know you don't have to speak to feel close. You just, love each other in the silence.

It was like this for half an hour before we decided that was enough sunbathing for today. 

Walking through the halls of the house, Radhika spoke while looking up at me.

"Himani. She looks very distant, now." 

"I agree." My voice claimed. "She's been a bit bitter to me since I came here. Indirect commands and not wanting to talk; All this is uncomfortable." 

"You make sense. But see it from her prespective. How would you feel if your loved one hung themselves to the ceiling and left a letter, assigning you to bring certain people to the funeral that you don't like?" Radhika looked down at her feet.

"What letter?" Confused, I asked.

"You don't know?" The shock in her tone and that look when she glanced at me felt like my oxygen supply was cut off.

"She left a letter, saying that she wants certain people at the funeral and nobody else." 

"What?" I froze in my tracks. "How many people? And who are they?"

"I don't know. Himani didn't tell anyone or showed the letter. I just know that you, me and Aryan are definitely on that list." She was speaking the truth, I feared. 

"But then why me? I was the one that blew off that night. Anyone would say she must've used her last breath to curse me." Radhika didn't bother to look behind.

"Sarthak," She sounded dissatisfied.

"When death is near, even your enemies are family." 

Breath stuck in my lungs, my mouth remained opened. A shaky sigh escaped my lips before I looked at her back and let out a small laugh.

"Since when did you get so wise?" I joked, not appropriately given the context of this place. She turned around, stared into my eyes and offered a gentle, blissful smile that reminded me of-.. of no one.

"A man named Sarthak made me wise." She laughed, I did too. We continued our walk through the halls. 

Suddenly, the sound of a car rolling in through the gate caught our ears. We looked at each other, then walked outside to see the guest. More than Radhika, I was curious. Because I never expected her to be the kind of person to invite a few people to her funeral. She was a fan of being the centre of attention. Her love for an audience amazed me.

As we stepped outside and down the stairs, I glanced at the black car that had parked itself outside those gates. Once the door opened, came out a man. A man with dark brown hair, 5'8ft and a face structure that I used to draw. A stranger that knows what I fear. A voice that loved to sing for me. A smile that I could recognize with closed eyes. But now that smile is not present even when my eyes are open. Now that stranger is really a stranger. He looks dull with eyes so swollen I swear I thought a bee stung him around his eyelids and underbags. Hands that shook and feared to hold a simple, light weighted obejct. The color gone from his face and also from his clothes. Plain white is now his lover. My heart stopped for a moment when he got out of the car and looked right at me.

Fuck, Aryan. What have you done to yourself?